


Need

by kyluxtrashcompactor



Series: Finding Balance [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Control Kink, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr meme drabble: "A kiss because I've been watching you all night and I can't take it any more."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

There were advantages to being general, to having access to whatever he wished on board his ship: any report no matter how classified, any door no matter who resided within, and any camera, whenever he wished.

Hux often used the ship’s myriad array of surveillance equipment to watch his officers and, especially, the troops being indoctrinated according to his plan and his father’s before him. The general studied efficiency, was an avid connoisseur of competence, and obsessive about control. He possessed it in all aspects of life, manifesting in routines known ship-wide for their rigidity, and privately for their absolutely necessity.

The general rose in the morning exactly three minutes before his alarm toned. He did a regime of push-ups, sit-ups, and stretched – for let it not be said he was too slight to hold his own in a fight. Then he showered, a process he timed with an internal clock to take exactly one half hour, shaved, dressed, made his bed with absolute precision, ordered his hair, and placed his hat upon it. He then sat in the chair he sat in at this moment, by the screen with the heads-up display of the ship, and he reviewed reports from the night shift. He browsed for incidents, for drowsy soldiers, for backs not straight at their posts.

It was satisfying, this well oiled machine, but, if he must admit to himself, here in the faux dimness of shipboard evening, it was boring. Hux sipped at the precisely two fingers of thirty year aged Corellian scotch, one ice cube, and longed for something that tested him. Chaos that he must exert command over. War. Nothing was so exhilarating as those moments on the bridge when he could take in a barrage of alarmed reports in tandem, could read data streams dictating countless functions. All so that he could take that chaos by the throat and wrench it into order. That is what he cherished.

What he lusted for.

He took another sip of whiskey, slow and measured, for he never drank to the point of intoxication. At least not anymore. With a caress of one finger across the data pad resting on his knee, he activated the voice sensor, and spoke.

“Show me Lord Ren.”

The DNA analysis on his data pad complied, and suddenly the room in front of him was filled with a lifesize hologram of the knight. He had abandoned that ridiculous helmet, and was clad only in black trousers, stretched upon his back on the oversized mattress. These trousers were open now, and Hux bit his bottom lip hard when he realized that Ren’s hand was beneath the hem, accentuating the very obvious erection. The knight’s head was tilted back against the pillow, hair billowed out in a dark halo, lips parted in ecstasy as he allowed himself long, languid strokes.

Hux should have turned the display off, should have flushed with shame. It was true, that he did have cameras in places they need not be, secret ones. Rather than indulge shame, however, his own rigid posture relaxed into the back of his chair, eyes glittering over the rim of his crystal glass, perched upon lips gone moist with arousal. The general felt his own body stir in response to the way Ren’s long back arched just so off the bed, belly muscles defined and taut, and imagined it beneath him. Imagined those supple lips against his. Wanted to taste the sweat that was a blue-red, limned glow on Ren’s neck.

He watched until the knight’s pace grew fevered, desperate, the fingers of his free hand claws upon the bedding, and then Hux thumbed his data pad again and spoke.

“Lord Ren.” He spat the name into the coms with authoritarian spite, and he allowed himself an impish smile when the hologram of Ren blurred and then froze with alarm. Interruption.

“I require your presence in my quarters, immediately,” Hux commanded, still gazing at the hologram. Ren had withdrawn his hand, was sitting up with one arm wrapped protectively over his belly, and glaring straight ahead. Hair wild.

And then he looked up, straight into the lens of the camera, and the image of his co-commander smiled with a feline satisfaction.

It sparked an immediate flush across the general’s cheeks, despite what he’d just been doing, and he almost belayed that order. But this was not the first time he’d crossed such boundaries that were not his to cross, even with his imperialist standards, and the part of him that met Ren’s unseeing eyes in the display doubted the knight was unaware.

 _Good,_ he thought to himself, ordering the display off as he saw Ren shift from the bed and snatch his shirt from the floor. _No preamble needed._ He could meet him at the door with a fist in his tunic and a kiss that bruised. He was tired of watching.

He wanted to feel.


End file.
